


This is where I leave you (sitting in a palace, covered in gold inside my head)

by Enj0ltaiRe



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reddie Centric, but it's also cute?, it's sad, rated mature but it's in between between teen and up audience and mature, richie is going blind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 16:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14288490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enj0ltaiRe/pseuds/Enj0ltaiRe
Summary: Going blind wasn’t something that Richie had ever even took into consideration. He had joked about it, thinking that having to wear glasses was close enough to being blind, complaining about the fact that there were people that could see for free, while he had to pay for contacts and specs, but he had never actually thought about the possibility of losing his eyesight.His actual, complete eyesight.





	This is where I leave you (sitting in a palace, covered in gold inside my head)

“I’m really sorry, Mr Tozier. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

Richie pushed his thick rimmed glasses back, squinting his eyes slightly and holding his breath in the back of his throat.

“We have a support group, and you may ask any question, really. You are not alone in this moment.” The doctor pushed a box of tissues towards him, in a gesture that was almost out of habit than actual empathy.

Richie didn’t feel like crying. He desperately wanted to wipe the little stain of ketchup, probably a souvenir of his doctor’s lunch, from the corner of his mouth, but he definitely wasn’t going to start weeping.

“That’s so relieving, Doc, thank you.” He said, trying not to sound as sardonic as he would have normally did.

He genuinely had no idea of how he was supposed to handle this whole matter, to begin with the pitiful look the doctor was giving him.

Richie hated being pitied. He didn’t like the look on people’s face when they were pitying someone: fake empathy, exaggerated sad eyes and that presumptuous glint in their eyes. The one that said “I’m pretending that I can relate to your situation, while I actually can’t”.

Going blind wasn’t something that Richie had ever even took into consideration. He had joked about it, thinking that having to wear glasses was close enough to being blind, complaining about the fact that there were people that could see for free, while he had to pay for contacts and specs, but he had never actually thought about the possibility of losing his eyesight.

His actual, _complete_ eyesight.

He had always been the kid with the glasses, ever since he could remember. He was the kid with the funny, baby blue plastic round glasses in kindergarten, then he was the kid with the huge glasses in primary school. Then, his face had started to grow around his glasses, making them look slightly less enormous until, finally, in high school, his parents had allowed him to get contacts. Having glasses in school meant being made fun of and having to use the tape to keep them together and Richie hated it. He hated being called “four eyes”, he hated when older kids held them out of his reach and he jumped up and down to take them back and he hated when Henry Bowers would throw them somewhere on the ground and then laugh as Richie patted the grass, looking for them with squinted, tears filled eyes.

He didn’t mind glasses as an adult that much. Adults with glasses looked professional and serious, even though he was convinced he still looked pretty goofy.

Richie Tozier had always dreamed about the day he wasn’t going to need contacts or glasses anymore, but he never thought it was going to be under those unfortunate circumstances. Now, he wished he could hold on tight to his old, taped glasses all life long.

 “How long is this going to take?” He asked, going straight to the point.

“It’s impossible to tell. Sometimes it takes days, hours or seconds even, but sometimes it’s a long process. Only time will tell.” The doctor said with a sigh.

Richie stood up. “In this case, no offence doc, but I’d rather be looking at something prettier than you.”

The man look taken aback, almost as if he didn’t know whether he should have laughed or felt offended. “You should come for another visit next week. Take an appointment with my secretary and-“

“Will do, doc.” Richie said, cutting him off and leaving the studio.

On his way out, Richie didn’t take an appointment with the secretary.

 

* * *

 

 

It all had started when he had noticed that it was taking him more effort than usual to see without his glasses, especially in the darkness. Sure, he had never been an eagle, and it had never crossed his mind to leave the house trusting his own eyesight, but now he couldn’t even put his contacts on. Watching a movie in the darkness of the theatre had became almost impossible.

The night before he had decided to call his doctor and take an appointment, it had took him 4 hours to walk back home from the radio station, when it usually took him not more than 45 minutes.

It had been terrifying. Richie had felt lost in the darkness, almost as if he had never set a foot in his neighborhood before, and that had been the drop that made the bucket overflow.

He was going blind.

Blind.

Blind meant that he was never going to know what his children would look like. That he was never going to see himself growing old and grey, that he was never going to see a movie or read a book again. He was never going to see the sunlight or the moon glow again.

He was never going to see Eddie again.

He slumped down on a bench and took his head between his hands, inhaling sharply and letting out a shaky breath.

How was he ever going to do anything? He didn’t know how to read the Braille alphabet, he didn’t know how to orientate himself in the darkness and, hell, how was he even going to go to work? How did blind people do anything? He couldn’t imagine a world where he was deprived of one of his senses. He would have rather given away his taste or his hearing or even his touch in favor to keep his eyesight.

He would have traded everything he had to stop all of that from happening.

Richie sighed and leaned back against the backrest of the bench, looking up at the clear blue sky and wondering why the hell hadn’t he spent more time looking up at the sky instead of down at his feet.

Without thinking about it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts, pressed down on the green button and sighed, bringing it to his ear.

“Hello baby, how are you?”

His mother’s voice had always sounded louder than usual through the phone. Richie had tried to explain her that, just because they weren’t face to face, there was no need for her to scream in the microphone, that he could hear her just fine.

She didn’t seem to believe him.

“Hey, mom.” He smiled fondly, looking up at the sky again. “I just wanted to say hi.”

She was silent for a couple of seconds, which gave Richie plenty of time to regret having called her. “You sound a bit off. Is everything alright?” She asked, and Richie could almost hear the frown in her voice.

“Everything’s peachy, Mags.” He cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut.

_Tell her, tell her. She deserves to know._

“Did you have a fight with Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Something like that.” He lied, sighing. “Nothing serious, don’t worry. Just… daily things, you know.”

Maggie Tozier always knew when Richie was lying. She almost had a fifth sense about it. He was never able to stay home, pretending to be sick, because she wouldn’t fall for the thermometer against the light bulb or the fake coughing.

Somehow, it was relieving. Knowing that his mother wasn’t going to change, that she was still going to catch his lies like flies, was comforting.

“Richie?”

“I’m fine, ‘ma. I’ll talk to you soon.” He hung up the phone before she could say anything else and took a deep breath.

He glanced down at his phone, looking at the background picture and a sad sigh left his lips. It was a picture he had taken a couple of months prior, while he was laying in bed with Eddie and his boyfriend’s head was tucked under his chin and they were both smiling.

It was the day Richie had suggested that they should have moved in together.

And Eddie had said yes.

Well, technically he had said “not even in a hundred years, I’d rater live with a monkey because it sure as hell would be cleaner than you”, but Richie had taken it as a yes.

They went on apartment hunting, chose the new furniture and ate Chinese takeout on the floor the first night in their new house. Richie remembered every single little thing. He remembered the frown on Eddie’s face as he stood for 50 minutes in front of the paint shelves, looking for the best shade of blue for the bathroom; he remembered his annoyed scoff when Richie had to test every single bed out at Ikea and the way Eddie pretended not to know him when he had burst out of a closet yelling how Narnia was “fucking lit”. He remembered laughing, he remembered the flush on Eddie’s cheeks when he had fucked him against the bare wall of the living room in their new apartment and the way his hair were sticking to his forehead.

He was never going to have new memories once the world was going to be dark. No more Eddie’s frowns, no more freckles, no more red, pink swollen lips and no more sleepy smiles and playful eyes.

He didn’t even know how he was going to tell Eddie, or anyone at all. He hadn’t talked about it, about how he had started to see less and less, because he didn’t want to worry him. He knew how sensible Eddie was to the whole health thing, and he knew he was going to freak out.

Richie didn’t want to be a source of worry for Eddie, nor for anyone else.

When he unlocked the door to their apartment, his heart was beating fast in his chest.

“Rich?” Eddie called from the kitchen.

“No, it’s the hot neighbor that lives next door.” Richie replied, hanging his jacket to the door.

“Oh, thank god. I was expecting my boyfriend, but this is so much better.” Eddie wittily replied, and Richie heard the chuckle in his voice.

He smiled fondly and walked to the kitchen, where Eddie was stirring something in a pot and a glass of red wine was standing right next to him. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and draped himself against his back. His nose was buried between Eddie’s soft curls, where he could smell his fruity shampoo and the conditioner he always used.

“Oh, Mr Wilkinson…” Eddie half moaned, pressing his back against Richie’s chest.

Richie playfully bit Eddie’s neck, making his boyfriend laugh and turn his head. “You’re a fucking asshole.” Richie smiled and Eddie grinned, dropping the spoon and reaching up with a hand to cup Richie’s cheek and press their lips together, softly and sweetly.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to be back ages ago.” Eddie left two small kisses against Richie’s lips before he pulled away.

“Time is relative.”

“Not in this house, it isn’t.” Eddie answered, pinching Richie’s side and turning his attention back to the pan in front of him.

Broccoli, edamame and peas.

Eddie had read somewhere that you should eat food of the color that matches your mood. Richie had snorted before he realized that Eddie was being completely serious.

_“What if I’m feeling sad?” Richie had asked, his gangly legs hanging off the backrest of the couch as Eddie paced the living room, reading the article out loud._

_“Then you should eat blue things. Blueberries, for example.”_

_“I don’t want to have fucking blueberries for dinner, Eds. Do I look like a fucking deer to you?”_

_Eddie had lifted his eyes from the page and a smirk had curved his lips. “To be honest? Yes. A baby deer. You’re just as clumsy.”_

_Richie had faked a laugh and then his eyes had rolled in the back of his head._

_“What if I’m feeling horny? What should I eat?”_

_The rest of the conversation had been moved to the bedroom._

So Eddie was having a green day, which, if he remembered correctly, meant he was relaxed and that he felt in good health.

Well, at least one of them was.

“You know what I really miss?” Richie asked, pulling away from Eddie and pouring a glass of wine for himself as well.

“40 points of IQ?” Eddie sipped on his wine with an amused smile on his face.

God, Richie loved him so _fucking_ much.

“The spaghetti to my Eddie. How long has it been since we’ve eaten some carbs?”

“A day, barely. You wanted a doughnut yesterday.” Eddie deadpanned.

“Feels like a different life.”

Eddie pouted a little and stood on his tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to Richie’s lips that made him melt like a candy in the microwave.

“But seriously, baby, where have you been?”

Richie could have told him the truth. He should have told him the truth. That way, they could have started planning what to do and Eddie could have had the time to decide whether he wanted to stick around or not. He should have told him. Eddie had the right to know. This wasn’t going to affect Richie alone, but both of their lives.

_Tell him._

“Meeting with the colleagues after the show. It was so annoying, it could have been an email.” He sighed, taking a sip of wine. “How was work?” He added, trying to change the subject.

“It was fine.”

Eddie didn’t look convinced, and Richie wondered if he could lie at all.

 

* * *

 

 

Everything was perfect.

Eddie was under him and his legs were wrapped around Richie’s waist. He was moaning like he didn’t care that on the other side of the wall lived an old couple of very nosy people, he was clutching Richie’s shoulders and they were kissing like their lives depended on it.

Eddie was perfect, and everything was perfect as well.

The sweat on his lover’s brows was perfect, the way his mouth hung open was perfect, the way he was saying his name like it was the only word he could remember was perfect and the way their bodies rocked together was perfect.

Then, everything went blurry.

Richie knew exactly where he was, but it was suddenly lost and, if the room had been dark before, now it felt like a black hole that had swallowed him down.

“Why did you stop?” Eddie’s voice came from beneath him, breathy and shaky.

Richie was terrified.

“Baby?” He could hear the concern in Eddie’s voice and feel it in the way he touched his cheeks. “Richie? What’s wrong?”

Richie’s eyes filled with tears as he searched for his glasses on the nightstand. He pulled out of the comfort of Eddie’s warm body and rolled to the side, turning the light back on and pushing his glasses on his nose. He felt the heart beating in his throat and the tears burning his eyes.

“Richie, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?”

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Richie could see Eddie again. A little blurry at first, but then he could see the worry in his eyes, his still flushed cheeks and the messy hair and the beads of sweat at the centre of his chest.

“I’m- I’m sorry, baby.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and then ran a hand through his tangled curls. “I just… I thought I heard something.”

“You thought you heard something?” Eddie repeated, frowning. “You looked terrified, Rich.”

Richie wanted to tell him how terrified he was, but no words came out. He so desperately wanted to lay on his side and being held, being told that everything was going to be alright and that, no matter what, Eddie wasn’t going to leave.

But what if Eddie _was_ going to leave?

What if, what if, what if.

“Rich, look at me.” Eddie put his hands on Richie’s cheeks, looking worried and preoccupied. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Richie opened his mouth and then he closed it. He turned his head to the side and kissed one of Eddie’s palms, leaning against his touch and giving him his best, warm smile. “I need to use the bathroom real quick.”

“Ric-“ Whatever Eddie was going to say, it was cut off by the slamming of the bathroom door.

He cried under the shower until the water run cold and his eyes were burning.

 

* * *

 

 

Richie started counting the steps. He knew exactly how many footsteps there were between their apartment and the grocery store (765), how many there were between their apartment and the underground station (901) and he was working on counting the footsteps between their favorite restaurant and the movie theatre (but he got distracted by a dog and lost count).

He figured that it was something he needed to know. That way, he could have known where he was going to be close to his destination or not once his eyes weren’t going to be helpful anymore. He thought about the fact that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend the rest of his life counting, but then he realized that he didn’t have that much of a choice.

“You’re oddly quiet.” Eddie said on their way to the grocery store. He had a piece of paper in his hand and he was glancing at him through the side of his eyes. “A woman wearing a short skirt passed by and you didn’t say anything.”

Richie didn’t even saw the woman, let alone the short skirt.

“I’m just counting, mon amour.” Richie replied brightly. He lost count, though, because they kept walking and he had stopped counting.

“Counting? Counting what?” Eddie asked with a curious frown.

“How many of your tiny footsteps take for you to match one of mine.”

Eddie pushed him and Richie laughed, tripping on his feet and beaming when Eddie flipped him off.

He thought that remembering where cheetos and sour cream dip were wasn’t going to be a problem. Eddie gave him a glare when Richie put them both in the basket, but he also left them there, because he loved Richie and because Richie knew that sometimes he stole some cheetos from the bag.

“Are we done?” Richie groaned, looking between the shelves while Eddie checked the list in his hands. “It’s just a dinner, Eds. We can just order a pizza and we’d be fine. I mean, it’s _Stan_.”

“Stan is lactose intolerant.” Eddie pointed out, pushing himself up on his tiptoes to reach for the box of rice that was on one of the highest shelves. Richie could have helped with that, but he was enjoying seeing Eddie’s struggle way too much. “And it’s not just Stan, there’s Patty as well. Plus, I want to cook something nice, okay?”

“How are you going to cook something that will match everyone’s mood? I mean, there’s a baby inside of Patty right now. How can you now if the baby is into green stuff?” Richie teased, and Eddie pursed his lips.

“I thought we had dropped this whole colored foods matter. It was stupid, I had admitted it. Stop being a bitch and grab the fucking rice for me.”

Richie smiled and finally reached up to take the rice for Eddie. He dropped it into the basket and leaned down to peck his lips. Eddie pulled away, giving Richie a death stare, before he pushed himself up on his tiptoes and wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck.

“You fucking tree.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to Richie’s lips.

Richie grinned and winded his arms around Eddie’s waist, lifting him up from the floor and making him laugh.

Richie was so glad that he was never going to miss the sound of Eddie’s laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

They liked Patty.

Actually, they _adored_ Patty.

Patricia Blum had _flaming locks of auburn hair_ , like Richie always sang to her in a very poor impression of Dolly Parton, bright blue eyes that matched Stan’s, she always wore pink lipstick and she laughed so hard at Richie’s jokes that her eyes always got watery and she had to clutch her stomach. She was a flight attendant, she was extremely smart and she loved Stan with everything she had got to give. They had met in college, during their Sophomore year, and had been together ever since.

They were a match made in heaven.

Patty was loose where Stan was uptight, Stan was precise when she was messy. They balanced each other in the best way.

Patty was pregnant, and Stan was the happiest Richie had ever seen him. He kept glancing at his girlfriend’s belly, just to make sure that it was still round and safely attached to her body, he helped her when she needed to stand up and when she needed to sit down and, for good measure, he didn’t drink wine because neither could she.

The due date was on December the 7th.

Richie, who had managed to keep any bad thought far from his mind, was suddenly struck by the realization that he was probably never going to see what his best friend’s baby looked like.

December the 7th meant less than five months.

Richie was usually an optimistic man. He used to see the glass half full in every single occasion, but, when the glass starts to get blurry, sometimes it’s hard to see it at all.

Eddie didn’t notice the shift of Richie’s mood. He’s so caught up in his conversation with Patty that he had even forgot that the mashed potatoes in his plate were cooling. Stan, on the other hand, didn’t miss it. Stan never missed anything, that much was for sure.

Richie looked up at him and saw that he was staring, almost as if he was trying to read his mind.

“You okay?” Stan mouthed, and Richie just made finger guns, grinning a little too wide.

“I’m going out for a smoke, my good fellows. Try not to miss me too much.” He announced, pecking Eddie’s cheek and standing up.

They had a little balcony that had an horrible view on the horrible opposite building. Sometimes, if the neighbors didn’t pull the curtains, they could see them having sex.

Not that they actually wanted to see them having sex, but, you know, they were _right_ in front of them.

Richie sat down on one of the two chairs they kept out there and lighted himself a cigarette up, blowing the smoke out in the wind. It was a warm evening, with just a little bit of breeze.

“Hey.” Richie turned his head and saw Stan sitting on the chair next to his. “Those things will kill you.”

Richie snorted and rolled his eyes, taking another drag. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Why don’t _you_ tell me something I don’t know?” Stan said, and Richie’s heart skipped a beat. “What is going on with you, Rich? You’ve been acting weird.”

“It’s probably the wine, Stan the Man.” Richie shrugged and leaned against the backrest of the chair, looking up at the sky. “I’m getting as drunk as a skunk.”

“You barely had two glasses.” Stan said, raising his eyebrows.

“Why are you obsessed with me?” Richie sang, moving his shoulders.

“You know, you’ve always been an awful liar.”

“I’ve been told so.” Richie smirked and turned his head to look at his best friend. “Are you practicing being a dad with me?”

Stan laughed quietly and shook his head. “If my kid turns out to be like you, I’m giving him back.”

Richie grinned and put the cigarette between his lips. “You love me.”

Stan rolled his eyes, but a playful smile was curving his lips. “Do you want to be the godfather?” Stan asked after a pause, looking at Richie, who’s heart had just skipped a beat.

“Are you serious?” Richie stared at Stan with wide eyes and his lips parted in shock. “You- me? Are you serious? Are you sure?”

“You’re my best friend, Rich, of course I’m serious. It has to be you.” Stan was grinning, and Richie dropped his cigarette do the ground.

“Holy shit!” He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Stan, squeezing him into a tight hug. “Does this mean I get to choose the name of the baby?”

“Absolutely not.” Stan laughed, pulling away from the hug.

“Not even the middle name?” Stan glared and Richie laughed. “Fine, okay. But Pepperwood Solo would have been a great name.” Richie pointed out, folding his arms on his chest.

He was going to be his best friend’s son’s godfather.

The baby he was probably never going to see.

“I’m going blind.” He said after a moment of comfortable silence.

Stan’s head whipped towards him, eyes wide with shock. “What?”

“I don’t know how long this is going to take, the doctor doesn’t know either. I just- I just know that sooner or later I will be blind. I can’t see in the darkness anymore. Last week I went to the cinema with Eddie and all I saw was a blur of shapes on the screen.”

“Does Eddie know?” Stan asked, frowning.

Richie shook his head.

“Rich-“

“I know. I’ll tell him. I’m just… scared, I guess.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “I don’t want him to leave.”

Stan put a hand on Richie’s forearm. “Don’t be an idiot, Richie. You know he’s not going to leave.”

“What if he wants, though? What if he wants, but he feels bad? I don’t want him to stay with me because he feels bad.” Richie shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, breathing faster.

“He will stay with you because he loves you, Richie. You know he does.” Stan squeezed his forearm reassuringly. “You can’t keep this secret.”

“I’m just so fucking scared, Stan.” Richie breathed, leaning forward, head hanging between his shoulders. “I don’t want to be anyone’s burden.”

“You- look, It won’t be easy, that much is for sure. But your life is not going to end, Rich. You’ll just have to learn how to live a new one. Blind people have their own alphabet and there isn’t basically anything they can’t do.”

“I’ll never see your son.” Richie said, sadly, turning to look at him.

Stan’s eyes were glassy with emotion.

Richie wanted to cry.

“I’ll describe him to you.”

Richie chocked out a laugh and took his glasses off, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “It won’t be the same thing.”

“It’ll be different. Different is not bad.”

Richie put his glasses back on.

Different was not bad.

He smiled weakly at Stan and nodded his head.

“I’m sorry that this is happening to you.” Stan sighed, running a hand through his blond curls. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The door to the balcony slid open and Eddie and Patty walked outside. Stan immediately stood up, so that Patty could sit down, while Eddie sat in Richie’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Are we interrupting something?”

Richie looked up at his boyfriend and his heart swelled at the sight of his beaming smile and bright eyes. “We were just discussing whether Pepperwood Solo would be a better first or middle name.”

“In your dreams, Rich.” Patty said, putting a hand on her round belly. “We’re still naming him David.” Richie huffed and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle. “When you’ll have a kid, you’ll name him Pepperwood Solo.”

Richie looked immediately up at Eddie with a bright smile, but he just shook his head and mouthed “no” while stroking Richie’s hair.

Eddie was light in his arms and smelled like fruity shampoo and fruity wine. Richie loved him to pieces.

He really, _really_ didn’t want to lose him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Happy birthday!”

Richie woke up with Eddie straddling his lap.

That was nice.

He immediately reached for his glasses so that, even if a little blurry, he could see Eddie better. Better than a shapeless cloud, anyway.

He was wearing and old band shirt that once belonged to Richie and he was holding a cupcake in his hands. A cupcake with single, lighted candle on top of it.

“Is it already?” Richie smiled sleepily, running his hands up and down Eddie’s creamy thighs.

“You need to stop forgetting about your birthday.” Eddie laughed, putting the cupcake in front of Richie’s face. “Blow.”

“I’d rather blow you.”

“Nu-uh, this is _your_ birthday.” Eddie grinned, but a blush had rose on his cheeks.

He was so beautiful.

“I’m an old man now.” Richie sighed, pouting a little.

“You are.” Eddie bit his lower lip and leaned down, resting the cupcake on the nightstand and brushing his lips against Richie’s. “It’s kind of hot, you know? The fact that you’re 30.”

“You have a thing for older men?” Richie slid his hands from Eddie’s thighs to his ass, palming it through his boxers. “Maybe I should grow a beard.”

Eddie laughed and cupped Richie’s cheeks, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Your beard grows in patches. Please don’t.”

“How dare you? It’s called leopard print. It’s fashion.”

Eddie laughed loud and bright.

“Blow on your candle and make a wish, you dumbass.”

Richie turned his head to the burning candle and stared at it for a couple of seconds.

_I wish for everything to stay like this, like in this moment, forever._

He blew on the candle and smiled up at Eddie.

“What did you wish for?” Eddie smiled and then chuckled when Richie flipped them over, pinning him down on the mattress.

“Can’t say that, or it won’t happen.”

 

* * *

 

 

Things didn’t stay like that, like in that moment.

As much as Richie would have loved it, they didn’t.

The more days passed, the harder it was for Richie to see the little details of things.

On a Tuesday of August, he stopped seeing Eddie’s freckles and his own in the mirror.

On a Sunday, he got lost in the underground.

On a Friday, he poured the coffee straight out of the mug, then he had knocked it off the counter in an attempt of cleaning everything up. That had made Eddie laugh. They had just woke up and Eddie was still _beautifully_ wrecked after the two orgasms of the night before, when Richie had put him on his hands and knees and ate him out like the delicious meal he was before his jaw got tired and his own dick was throbbing painfully with need in his underwear. Then, he had fucked him on the bed, against the wall, while holding him up and with Eddie’s legs wrapped around his waist, and on their bedroom’s desk. Just because.

Eddie had woken up in a good mood, so he hadn’t mined the coffee stain on the counter or the broken mug. He had left a kiss between Richie’s shoulder blades and pinched his side, saying that “he was exceptionally clumsy lately”.

He was.

He wished he wasn’t.

He wished he had the guts to tell Eddie why he was.

On a Saturday, he told his mother.

She cried on the phone, as wrecked sobs shook her body. She wanted to know if he was sure (yes, he was pretty sure), what the doctor had said exactly (Richie told her just that) and how Richie was doing (not too good). She wanted to come to New York, but Richie said no. He still needed to sort things out, and, most importantly, he still needed to tell Eddie.

She got mad.

She got mad because he had waited so long to tell her and because he still hadn’t told Eddie.

Richie expected her to get mad, he had definitely saw that coming, so he just sat on the couch, ankles crossed on the coffee table and the hand that wasn’t holding the phone pinching the bridge of his nose.

She cried again, and Richie soothed her with gentle words.

_It’s going to be okay._

_I’ll work it out._

_I’m okay._

When they hung up, Richie felt almost as tired as if he had just ran the marathon. He took his glasses of, rubbed his eyes and put them back on. Ten minutes later, he got a call from his dad.

His mother really didn’t know how to keep a secret.

_Is it true?_

_Yep._

_Are you okay?_

_What do you think?_

_Do you need anything?_

_Do you have an extra pair of eyes?_

_I love you, son, you know that, right?_

_Yeah. I love you too._

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie was late for work.

He was never late for work, which meant that he was freaking out and Richie, in that moment, felt like he was standing in his way by simply existing.

He didn’t want to move, because he had forgot his glasses that morning and, right when he was in the middle of the kitchen with his back to the counter, everything had gone dark and blurry. There were white spots dancing in front of his eyes and cold sweat running down his spine.

“Could you give me a hand!?” Eddie snapped, and Richie could hear the tension, the annoyance and the nervousness in his voice.

Richie saw a very blurry and very dark shape of Eddie moving around the kitchen and living room, but no details. He couldn’t see Eddie’s frown nor the way, he was sure, he was nervously moving his hands around.

Richie wanted to help. He wanted to help so desperately.

“Richard, for fuck’s sake!” Eddie snapped, banging a hand down on the kitchen table.

Or the counter?

Richie couldn’t be sure.

“I’m sure you’ve left them in the pocket of your jacket.” Richie said, trying to sound as natural as possible, hiding the panic he was feeling behind a smile.

“I’m wearing my jacket right now, don’t you think I’d know if they were in the pocket!?”

Richie bit his lower lip.

“Eddie… I can’t s-“ He started to say.

He needed to tell him.

He needed help.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Eddie cut him off. Richie heard him move closer to him and grabbing something.

Something that sounded like keys.

Something that was right next to Richie, and that Richie couldn’t see.

“Thanks a lot, now I’m going to be late! They were right next to you, Richard, are you fucking blind!?”

Eddie sounded so mad, so pissed and annoyed.

Richie’s heart sunk in his chest.

“Eds, I-“

The front door slammed shut and suddenly the flat was quiet. No footsteps, no angry bickering, no nothing.

“Eddie!” Richie patted the air in front of him, trying not to knock anything out as he made his way out of the kitchen. His eyes were burning with tears.

He was lost in his own house.

He couldn’t remember where he had left his phone, how many footsteps there were between the living room and the bedroom, or between the front door and the elevator.

Then, he tripped on the step that there was between the kitchen and the living room and fell on his face.

How could he have forgot about the step between the kitchen and the living room? It had always been there.

The wooden floor smelled like the detergent Eddie insisted on buying because, according to him, it made the house smell like a flower shop.

He was stuck on the floor. He didn’t know where his glasses  were, where his phone was, not even where the front door was. He hated it. He hated the tears that started rolling down his cheeks, he hated that he was so powerless against his own body. He felt trapped, without any way out, like a kid in a dark basement that wasn’t high enough to reach for the light switch.

“Shit, I forgot-“ The front door opened again. He heard a bag drop to the floor and Eddie’s footsteps. “Richie! Oh my god, are you- what happened?” He dropped on his knees next to him and Richie felt Eddie’s hands on him, helping him up on his knees. “Richie, baby, look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, and Richie shook his head, crying.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t- I can’t see anything.” He choked on his own words and held onto Eddie, desperately trying to discern the shape of Eddie’s face from the blurriness in front of his eyes. “I can’t see, Eddie… I can’t see.”

 

* * *

 

 

Richie was sitting in front of his doctor, the very same doctor that had told him that his life was going to crumble into pieces soon. He was having a not-so-pleasant déjà-vu, except that, this time, Eddie was sitting next to him, holding his hand.

“How worse has it got?” The doctor asked, checking Richie’s medical history.

Eddie squeezed his hand for encouragement.

“I-uh, well, everything is pretty much always blurry now, even if I’m wearing my glasses. Sometimes I have this very bad episodes where everything gets darker, or sometimes I see white spots.” He explained, gesturing with his free hand. “You know, like when you stand up too quickly and you feel like your head is spinning? Everything gets confused in front of you and you have to lean against something and close your eyes for a couple of seconds? Like that. Except that it could happen at any time, and sometimes it doesn’t go away when I open my eyes.”

“He fell today.” Eddie added, squeezing Richie’s hand again. Richie thought that maybe Eddie needed to hold Richie’s hand more than Richie needed to hold Eddie’s.

“You lost balance?” The doctor asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Not exactly. There’s a step between the kitchen and the living room. I couldn’t see anything and I tripped on it.”

“Still.” Eddie sighed. “You fell. You could have hurt yourself, Rich.” Richie saw him shaking his head and sigh, leaning back against his chair.

“I understand your concern, Mr Kaspbrak. Let me check on what’s going on.” The doctor stood up and Richie did as well.

He sat down on another chair, where the doctor used a flashlight to check his eyes and then various lenses, humming every now and then.

“So how is it going?” Richie asked, blinking when the doctor pulled away and putting his glasses back on.

“Just like we were expecting. The dystrophy is progressing gradually, therefore the corneas are progressively giving you that sense of blurriness. They’re thinning as well. Are you sensitive to the light?”

“When it’s too bright, yeah. Especially in the morning. But what can I do? I wake up next to that sunshine over there every day.” Richie said, gesturing towards Eddie.

“Seriously, Richie?” Eddie scoffed, and Richie could hear the roll of his eyes in his tone of voice. “Be serious.”

Richie grinned and then looked up at the doctor. “He is my boyfriend.” He clarified, just because.

“Yeah, I figured that much.” The doctor snorted, amused. “I have a son. His name is Ethan and he’s 17 years old. He’s gay as well.”

“Oh I’m not gay.” Richie clarified. “I swing for both teams. My father used to be so confused, but now he’s cool about it. I’m pretty sure he likes Eddie better than me.”

“Shut up, Rich, that’s not true.” Eddie said, but he was chuckling softly.

“You’ve been together for a long time?” The doctor asked, keeping one of Richie’s eyes open at the time as he poured a few drops of something that definitely didn’t smell like something you would drink in them.

“Since we were 15.” Eddie replied, while Richie’s eyes burned like red-hot coal.

“That’s a very long time.” The doctor patted Richie’s shoulder. “Congratulations. Are you getting married soon?”

Richie stood up from the chair, frowning a little as his eyes kept watering. “Uh, we have talked about it, but it’s not a priority. We already live together, it’d just be a formality.” He sat back next to Eddie. “Right, bug?”

“Especially now. Definitely not a priority.” Eddie cupped the back of Richie’s neck and dipped his fingers between his dark curls. “Maybe one day.”

Richie turned his head to look at him, squinting his eyes and trying to see him more clearly. “Maybe one day.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me right away.”

Eddie was sitting with his back to the headboard of the bed. He was naked, a little sweaty, and he smelled like strawberry flavoured lube.

Richie was lying between Eddie’s legs, his head was on his boyfriend’s stomach and the sheet was tangled with his legs. He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle and buried his face into Eddie’s stomach, humming in the back of his throat.

“I’m serious, Rich. You should have told me. This is- I mean. It’s life changing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Richie sighed and kept his eyes closed. “Why do we have to talk about it _now_?”

“Because I want to know if you were just nervous about telling me or because you didn’t want to share this with me.” Eddie’s hand stopped playing with Richie’s curls, but he kept it there, buried in his hair.

“What do you think?”

“Knowing you, I think you probably thought about something stupid like ‘he could dump my moronic ass’, which not only is incorrect, but also extremely offensive.” Eddie tugged at a strand of Richie’s hair. “Am I wrong?”

Eddie was never wrong.

That was what he hated and loved the most about their relationship. They had been together for so long that they knew each other better than they probably knew themselves, which also meant that, somehow, they could always figure out what was going on in the other’s mind. Eddie knew exactly why Richie hadn’t told him about it because he knew exactly what were his major fears and insecurities.

Being left alone, being forgotten, being ignored.

Losing Eddie.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad for me.” Richie eventually said, rolling on his back between Eddie’s legs and looking up at him.

“Of course I feel bad for you.” Eddie said, very seriously. “I feel bad for you because this shouldn’t happen to you. I feel bad because I love you with every single fiber of my being and I’d like to be able to protect you from every harm and every bad thing that could happen.” Eddie cupped Richie’s cheek, cradling his head. “If I could go through all of this in your place, I would. I’d take all this from you, but I can’t. What I can do, is be by your side and old your had, promising that I’ll never let go, leaving you in the dark.”

A tear rolled down Richie’s temple, crashing against Eddie’s hand.

“Don’t cry. It breaks my heart.” He wiped Richie’s tear away and Richie vaguely see a smile curving his lips. “I love you, Richie. I’ve loved you all my life, and I’ll keep loving you until I die.”

Richie sat up and turned, kneeling in front of him and taking Eddie’s face between his hands. He kissed him slowly, gently, stroking Eddie’s cheekbones with his thumbs. He kissed his forehead, then tried to aim at his eyes and ended up kissing his own thumb, making Eddie giggle softly.

“Almost.” He leaned against Richie’s touch.

“I love you to pieces.” Richie said.

“I know, you dumbass. So never, _ever_ , keep something like this from me again.”

“I sincerely hope there won’t be the need.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Happy birthday.”

Richie woke Eddie up with a kiss on the chin.

He was aiming at the lips.

“Five more minutes.” Eddie groaned, sleepily, trying to hide under the duvet.

It was the coldest September New York had had in a while.

“You want to postpone your birthday?” Richie laid down on top of him, putting his chin on Eddie’s chest.

“I don’t want to be 30 yet. Maybe in five minutes I’ll be ready.”

Seven minutes later, they were sitting in bed with a mug of coffee in their hands.

“How do they look?” Richie asked, leaning towards Eddie.

“Pale.”

“Paler than yesterday?” He asked, rubbing one of his eyes, almost hoping that it could send the blur away.

Eddie swatted Richie’s hand away. “Don’t do that, you’ll only make it worse.” He sighed. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“You’re holding up your fingers?” Richie asked, and Eddie pinched his side.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not funny…”

Richie chuckled a little.

He squinted his eyes, trying to discern shapes from the blur of colors in front of him. “Two?”

“Close enough.” Eddie sighed.

“How many?”

“Five.”

“Fuck.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie moved closer to him. Richie saw his brown eyes, and even his button nose.

“You’re beautiful.” Richie breathed. The pink blur of Eddie’s lips moved.

He was smiling.

Hands framed his cheeks and soft lips brushed against his own.

“You’re beautiful, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks earlier than expected, Patty gave birth.

The baby was 51 centimeters long and weighted 2.8 kilograms.

It was a beautiful blur of pinkness in Richie’s eyes.

He was quiet into his mother’s arms, while Stan was standing by the bed.

“Oh my god, guys, he’s beautiful.” Eddie said, voice thick with emotion. He squeezed Richie’s bicep between his hands, excitedly. “Careful, baby, follow me.” Eddie gently guided Richie to the bed, and Richie followed his lead. He could vaguely see the shape of the bed. If he squinted his eyes enough, he could see a bit clearer. “Sit here, love.”

Richie patted the air until he found the chair, and carefully sat down with a grin. “Is he blonde like Stan?” He asked, buzzing with emotion. “I hope he looks like you, Pat, otherwise he’ll have an hard time dealing with Stan’s ugly genes.” He joked, and he heard Stan’s faint laugh and Patty’s chuckle.

“He is bald.” Eddie told him, running a hand through Richie’s hair. “And he’s sleeping, so keep your voice down.” Richie felt Eddie’s lips pressing against his head.

“Do you want to hold him?” Patty asked, but Richie couldn’t be sure if she was talking to him or to Eddie.

Probably Eddie.

“Rich?” Stan added, and Richie’s eyebrows shot up.

He wasn’t sure where he was looking at.

“Me? Really?” He asked, blinking his eyes rapidly. “What if I drop him?”

“You won’t drop him, Richie, don’t worry.” Patty reassured him, but Richie wasn’t convinced. The last thing he wanted was to drop his best friend’s newborn son.

“I’ll be here next to you, baby. Don’t worry, you won’t drop him.” Eddie kissed his cheek, and Richie eventually nodded.

“Okay then. It’s time for the baby to meet uncle Richie, aka the funniest family member he could have ever hoped for, because we all know that Staniel the Maniel is no fun.” Stan laughed again.

“Shut the fuck up, Richard.” He said, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“Did you just drop the f-bomb in front of your baby, Stan? Did you all hear that? When the boy will say his first f-word, take notice that it won’t be because of my trashmouth.”

“Careful now, trashmouth.” Eddie gently placed a very warm and very fragile baby between his arms, and Richie instinctively held him against his chest, following Eddie’s guide to cup the back of his little head for support. “There you go, uncle Richie.” Eddie knelt beside him, putting a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, hey, baby…” Richie breathed, feeling the warmth of a new life against his chest and, somehow, even inside it. “Hi, nice to meet you, buddy.” He cradled him between his arms, squinting his eyes desperately, trying to make any detail at all out.

The baby yawned and turned his head towards Richie’s shirt.

“We’ve decided to call him David Richard Uris.” Stan said, and Richie’s eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat.

David Richard Uris.

“You’ve named him after me?” Richie asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“What? No. After Richard Gere. Patty is a great fan.” Stan said, scoffing. “Yes, of course we named him after you.”

Richie let out a breathy laugh and held the baby closer to his chest.

“You’re the godfather, after all.”

“I am, ain’t I?” He whispered.                                                                                    

Eddie sniffed by his side and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

He wished he could see. He wished he could watch the baby’s first movements and the way his parents were looking at him. He wished he could see the way Eddie was looking at him as he held a baby.

But he could still feel that little body in his arms, he could hear Stan and Patty’s soft laughs and words of encouragement. He could still smell the scent of a newborn in the air, and he could still hear Eddie whisper “ _I love you_ ” in his ear.

And that, even if it wasn’t everything, was still enough.

 

* * *

 

 

On Christmas day, Richie stopped wearing his glasses.

He didn’t need them anymore.

Eddie promised that they were never going to throw them away. They had too much emotional value for him and, well, for Richie as well. Eddie told him that he had put them on Richie’s nightstand, just in case he got nostalgic and decided to wear them just to feel their weight on his nose.

Richie loved him _endlessly_.

For Christmas, Eddie got him The Lord Of the Rings in Braille.

On January the 1st, he finally signed up for some late  evening lessons that taught people how to read Braille alphabet. Richie was sure he was going to mess up, because his hands moved just as fast as his mouth and mind. He was certain he was going to miss letters and fuck everything up.

He didn’t.

It wasn’t easy, that much was for sure, but it wasn’t as terrible as he had expected it to be.

On February the 13th, he read the first chapter of the book Eddie had got him for Christmas out loud to him.

It wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t what he wanted.

Even though Eddie was next to him every day, he still got lonely at times. He was still as if he was trapped behind a foggy window. There were days that he still woke up hoping that it had just been a bad dream and he still got those moment of weakness that brought him to tears. He missed the world. Even if sometimes he had hated it, now he missed it like crazy. 

Most of all, he missed Eddie. He missed his smile, his eyes, his freckles and the way he wrinkled his nose when he tasted something that he didn't like. 

Richie would have rather stayed a four-eyed geek for the rest of his life, no doubt.

But sometimes, he was proud of himself. When he managed to walk from the kitchen to the living room without tripping on the step, for example. One morning, Eddie had kissed him senseless because he had poured the coffee in the mug. He was proud of himself when he held David in his arms without dropping him and the baby laughed at his funny voices.

He had his small victories.

One step at the time, he was learning again.

It was like he was a child again, a child that needed to learn from zero.

And it was frustrating. Hell, at times he just wanted to throw something against the wall and hear that satisfying _crash_ , but it was working out. Slowly, but it was working out.

“Do you want to marry me?”

Eddie’s voice was quiet and relaxed. They were babysitting David, while Stan and Patty were having a night out for their anniversary.

Richie raised his eyebrows and looked in the direction where Eddie’s voice came from.

“Did you seriously just propose to me while I have this baby’s diaper, which is full of this baby’s poop, in my hand?” Richie asked, somewhere in between feeling bemused and amused.

“Apparently.” Richie heard the grin in Eddie’s voice. “So? Do you want to marry me?”

He suddenly felt a pair of arms circling his waist and Eddie’s warmth and scent surrounding him.

He did want to marry him.

He said yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Leave a comment to let me know what you think if you feel like it, or come and say hello on tumblr @ Tozier-boy  
> Kudos to you


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